


Counting Stars

by firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin



Series: Werewolf!AU | Beauty and the Beast [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Family Bonding, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin/pseuds/firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven times Talia hated Bruce’s kids, and one time she didn’t.<br/><b>Alternatively:</b> Seven times Bruce brought a kid back home, and one time Talia did it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> SO, this series came from my desire to read something about Talia being a wolf, basically. A badass ~~motherly~~ wolf with not-so-well repressed feelings for Bruce and the way she deals with his urge to adopt every little brat who bursts out of nowhere in need of a pack. ~~you need to write what you want to read, amirite?~~
> 
> There are a few parts in work, about almost all characters, and none long storyline for me to write yet. ~~but I'm working about it~~ Most of them are inspired in songs. Talia's songs are Counting Stars (Sugarcult) and Beauty and the Beast (The Mayan Factor). ~~but I may warn you: not necessarily the song is related to the story~~
> 
> Some of them will probably be a bit ~~or a lot, who knows~~ OOC, but I'm not worrying about it now.
> 
> English is not my mother tongue, so, I'm sorry for eventual mistakes and all! D:  
> Any question, send me! I don't bite :3  
> See 'ya, people! <3

Talia marries Bruce when she’s eighteen.

As a pure-blood wolf, she knows which are her duties ― she always knew them, since the start of it all. It doesn’t make her any less worried, though, being married with a man who doesn’t seem to care about it at all. Bruce is the heir of one of the most powerful families of wolves around there, she came from far away only to be his. His to care, his to love. Her father taught her to be the alpha’s pack mate: not only her genes are good enough to reproduce, but she has the will to be a useful fighter too.

Nothing of it seems to matter for Bruce, though. Talia knows him since they were kids, she was born to be his mate; she knows exactly what he’s been through ― she knows about his parents, their death, she knows how he seeks for the wolves who were stupid enough to kill Martha and Thomas Wayne, knowing about their deal with the al Ghuls. Part of Talia wants to know why he kept their marriage arrangement ― even daring to hope, deep in her soul, that it’s because maybe, _just maybe_ he feels the same way about her ―, but she knows better than ask.

Bruce won’t break the deal. Not when he’s alone, not when the al Ghuls are so powerful and won’t let him. That’s why Talia’s married with him. That’s why he lets her inside his pack, that’s why he lets her inside his house. Talia’s not any fool: she was born to be his mate, but it doesn’t mean that Bruce loves her. She wants to believe that he does, but she knows that she’ll need to work with him about it.

That’s why, in their first night, she doesn’t ask him about the Wayne rituals for making a wolf your mate. That’s why she doesn’t ask him about the reason why Bruce doesn’t touch her the way he’s supposed to. They’re in his room, still, she can hear the League under them, celebrating their marriage. Bruce’s a powerful wolf, his family was before him, and Talia knows that her father wants a pure-blood heir in one, two years at the most.

Looking at her husband, as distant as the room lets him ― looking down at his own gardens and the sky full of stars above them ―, something in her primary instincts tells her that maybe she’ll need more than some years to make him love her. _It’s okay_ , though. _She can work with this_.

“Beloved.” she calls him in a soft, caring tone, carefully stepping in his direction. Nothing in her posture is abrupt or dangerous, she’s observant enough to know that Bruce’s not in a good mood. His shoulders are tense, his breath out of rhythm. “Is everything okay?”

Bruce looks at her. His blue eyes are so vivid, so full, and, yet, Talia can’t quite figure out what’s passing through his mind. She wants to, but she can’t. She stops walking when there’s only two inches or so between them, and Bruce’s eyes are kept fixed on her face. Slowly, his hand reaches her hair, caressing it between his fingers. His body seems to pour warmth, and Talia wants nothing but drown herself in it, she wants nothing but be his mate.

 _alpha_ , the wolf inside her growls. _alpha. mine. ours. ours._

 _‘Yes’_ Talia thinks, staring at the blue-eyed man almost with worship. _‘Ours’._

Bruce leans to kiss her, and she accepts it without a doubt in her mind that, _yes, she’ll make him love her._

**I**

The first time Bruce brings a kid to their home is unplanned.

Four months after their marriage, Talia finally understands why everything inside her ― her wolf, her heart, her soul ― wants so badly to be noticed by her husband. It comes as surprise in a rainy day of november, when she’s enjoying the warmth of Bruce’s fireplace, allowing herself a moment of peace. She hears the sound of the front door being open abruptly, and immediately her senses go wild. She knows Bruce’s scent by heart, and right now he’s covered by mud, blood and ashes. And worse: _he’s not alone_.

She stands and runs, her eyes wide, her heart beating stupidly fast. She’s halfway through letting her wolf out when she reaches the hall, and stops dead in tracks when she sees what’s happening: Bruce’s soaked with rain and mud, holding a tiny body against his chest. His eyes are feral, shining dangerously, and he stares at her in a way that clearly shows that he considers Talia as a threat. She immediately takes a step back, her mouth half open, too shocked and confused to be hurt.

Bruce doesn’t seem to mind, though, he’s too busy trying to calm down the little wolf in his arms.

“Alfred!”

The butler comes not even a single minute later, worry written all over his eyes, and Talia watches in awe when he takes the kid in his arms with nothing but a frown from Bruce. She doesn’t dare trying to approach, knowing that, in his state, he won’t think twice before launching himself at her. Talia takes another step back, without thinking too much about it, because she doesn’t want to fight him.

“He’s got a broken rib, a few crooked fingers, and I think he’s in shock.”

Alfred doesn’t even seem to hear him, immediately getting out of the room, probably to patch the boy up. Talia knows that the butler’s not a wolf ― she would’ve know if he was ―, and she doesn’t understand why the Wayne family kept him and his predecessors, but she won’t say anything to her husband. If Bruce says that Alfred’s part of the pack, if he says the human’s worthy enough to know about them, it’s not her right to say otherwise.

“Beloved?”

He notices her now, his eyes fixed in her movements. Quietly, although not submissive, Talia approaches him, careful not to pass him any distrust. It seems to work, because Bruce’s shouders drop a little, his features softening, his eyes losing its danger. When she’s ready to touch him, her fingers a mere inch away from his face, both of them hear a long, low whine, followed by a childish growl. Immediately, Bruce pulls away from her, his eyes darkening again, and follows the sound without saying a word.

Talia’s left alone and confused, a bitter taste in her mouth.

She knows that, from now on, everything’s going to change.

**.**

Bruce’s lying at her side in his ― _their_ ― bed, both of them staring at the ceiling. She can feel the way he’s tense, she can feel his concern. Even now, when his face is a blank page, Talia knows: it’s not regret. Maybe a little, from almost attacking her, but nothing more. He’s not guilty about bringing a bruised and frightened wolf to their home without telling her anything. He’s not guilty about letting the boy stay, not even bothering to talk with _his wife_ to know what she thinks about it.

Not even Talia’s wolf wants to be near him now. She only wants to get rid of the ache in her chest.

“His name’s Richard Grayson.” Bruce says, suddenly, his voice almost empty of emotions, and she needs to control her urge to flinch. “His parents were killed by Zucco a few days ago, he was kept captive until now. He’s only four years old, Talia.”

Talia knows who’s Anthony Zucco: a criminal whose purposes rotate around money and extortion. Her father took the care to teach her about most of the criminals in Gotham, he told her with who mess and who avoid. Zucco’s not even a problem for her ― he’s just a filthy thief who knows too much for his own good ―; and it shouldn’t be for Bruce. She looks at him, resisting the urge to snap, and finds her mate staring directly at her ― not in the same way he looked at the boy, Richard, a few hours ago, caring and warm, no, it’s only a cold look, almost like he doesn’t feel nothing. Something inside Talia shivers.

“I think we should keep him.”

She knew that it was coming. She knew. _She always knew._ Talia breathes silently, returning his gaze with an emotionless face ― hidding how hurt she feels, like she did from the start. She doesn’t know what’s wrong. She has good genes, she’s a pure-blood, she’s even good-looking. She’s good enough for most of the alphas around there, and, even now, Bruce doesn’t seem to care. She doesn’t seem to be good enough for him, she doesn’t seem to reach his hopes for a wife ― and that’s why he wants to keep the boy. His hopes are too high for Talia, and, even then, he seems ready to adopt a kid who burst out of nowhere. She doesn’t get it.

But Talia won’t fight about this. Oh, no. Fighting, she would probably make him angry; she would make him mad. Talia wants the heir her father wants, and she knows that, deep down, that’s what Bruce’s reaching for; that’s why he’s willingly letting an outsider in, that’s why he’ll keep this boy even if she says that she doesn’t want him here. She’ll do whatever he wants if it means that she’ll have her own pup to take care, if it means that Bruce’ll be more likely to accept her love and a son of theirs.

_ours._

“Whatever you want, beloved.”

**II**

The second time Bruce brings a kid to their home ― two years later ― is an accident.

Kind of.

Talia doesn’t know for sure how they ended up in a charitable funds party, but she’s not a fool: their public image needs to be intact. The wolves community needs to be kept in secret, specially here, where they live, where the Wayne family’s still so significant. Bruce’s very good at pretending to be a person whom he’s not, and so is Richard, but Talia doesn’t like the way most of the rich people from this place act around her. They’re too loud, they’re too false, and their fake smiles give her nausea. Even then, she’s willing to stay; she’s smiling and talking and letting people take photos.

Well, at least, she was, before Barbara Gordon showed.

Barbara’s a beautiful five-year-old little girl. She has a hair so red that makes Talia think about flames, and her eyes are big like cristals, glowing in a bluish-green. She’s so adorable that part of Talia wants to squish her cheeks until they’re all red and aching ― what, at the same time, makes her stay away from the girl, not wanting to be around her for so long when it’s not something she usually does with anyone. Well, Talia tried. She really tried.

It all comes to an ― disastrous ― end when Richard bites the girl. _Of course._

“I’m sorry!” he says, for the millionth time in less than five minutes. They ― Talia, Bruce, the boy ― are only waiting for Comissioner Gordon to show up, and, honestly, Talia’s tired of staying sit at uncomfortables seats. She thought that at least hospitals were meant to be less unpleasants than Gotham’s parties, and, well, she was wrong. “I didn’t think that it’d hurt her!”

Bruce sighs, tiredly, but his eyes don’t lose its glow. And Talia’s faster. She won’t let him spoil the kid.

“You can’t go biting people like this, boy.” she crosses her arms, uneasy, wanting to get back home.

“But he said it was okay!”

Talia looks at the boy for a moment. Richard seems on the verge of tears for hurting a friend, and she almost feels bad for him. Almost. Not even a second after, she’s staring at Bruce with sharp eyes, unable to believe that he’d do something so _stupid_. But, rather than guilt, she only finds confusion. It makes her life a little more complicated. Talia only watches when Bruce kneels at Richard’s side, comforting and, yet, demanding when he puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Her guts twist in jealously for his care, for his soft eyes, for the warm voice he uses while talking with the boy ― and even more when Richard looks at Bruce with calm, amazed eyes.

“Who said?”

“The wolf.”

They don’t have time to talk about it, though. Right when Bruce seems about to say something, Comissioner Gordon and his bright daughter come back from the doctor’s room. Barbara has bandages in her left hand and a lollipop in her right hand, but nothing more ― nothing that can be strictly related to the hospital. Before any of them can do something, Richard jumps from his seat and practically launches himself at her, startling her father, who looks at the boy in awe.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Babs, I’m sorry!”

Barbara’s smiling, her tiny white teeth showing. She doesn’t seem to mind about the fact that her new friend is a lot more clingy and a little violent than the other kids at their age; actually, Talia believes that she’s not the only one to notice the way the girl giggles before gently punching Richard’s shoulder.

“Stop whining, Dick! It was just a scratch, look.” she shows the clear bandage to prove her point. “It doesn’t hurt, you silly. And I got you a lollipop!”

The half Romani boy looks at Barbara like she’s the sun herself, his big blue eyes glowing like two big and childish stars, and the little girl laughs brightly before giving him the candy. That’s when Talia stands, taking Bruce’s hand between her fingers, feeling her stomach churning. She knows, by the look on his face, what’s going through his mind. _No_ , that’s what she wants to say. _We can’t keep her. Barbara has a family. You can’t prove that his bite will make something, you don’t even know if the boy’s a pure-blood. If he’s not, we need to get rid of her. No. No. We won’t keep her._

But even now, Talia knows better. She’s not pregnant yet, she doesn’t know why, and it means that he’ll keep making his pack grow, even if it means that he’s taking kids to be official members. And if Richard’s ― Dick, the hell, whatever the boy wants to be called now ― a pure-blood, there’s no doubt in her mind that the little girl, the bright and full of life Barbara Gordon is now cursed to be half like them: not strong enough to be significant in the pack, and, yet, worthy enough to not be left behind.

Talia knows what happens when a human is bitten by a wolf who’s not pure-blooded. Even not wanting to have the girl in Bruce’s pack ― _hell, their pack_ ―, she doesn’t want Barbara to go all bat-shit crazy and murdering people without a conscience, she doesn’t want the little girl with fire in her hair to turn into a bloodthirsty monster. Talia doesn’t see nothing wrong with killing people, but she believes that they need a reason to do it; something more than only wanting to go out for blood.

 _pack? alpha? pack?,_ she tries to make the wolf inside her head stop asking silly questions, her eyes glued to both kids while Bruce and Comissioner Gordon talk about the incident. She wants to believe that her husband won’t tell their secret ― their community is well-hidden for a reason ―, but she doesn’t know nothing about him anymore, and she doesn’t want to get her hopes too high. _pack. alpha pack._

Talia fights the urge to scream ― mostly because if she does it she’ll cry too.

It’s not her choice anymore. It never was.

**.**

“I’ve heard that Bruce’s got a new pack member.” Nyssa says, a few days later, after coming without telling her sister, finding her studying in her husband’s private room. Her eyes immediately go to Talia’s belly and, after finding nothing, she stares at the older. “You don’t seem pregnant yet, so, mind if I ask what happened?”

Talia doesn’t want to talk about it. She hates the kids. She hates the way they laugh, the way they talk, the way they run all around the place while Bruce watches, caring. They’ve left her with nothing but a cold in her body, in her soul: she reaches and she runs and she tries so hard, but Bruce never seems to mind, he never seems to care, he never seems to understand her needs. She wants his warmth, she wants to be claimed, she wants him to love her like she loves him ― and, yet, the only thing Bruce cares about is the children he brought to under his wings, always fond, always determined to make them good pack members and good people.

 _Like they’re his kids, not his pack._ Talia can’t deal with it, and, yet, she’s trying. She’s swallowing her anger and her pain and letting him do whatever he wants to do. If Bruce needs anything, he’ll come to her ― at least, Talia hopes so. She doesn’t know what to excpet from him anymore.

“The circus boy bit someone?” Nyssa deducts, after one minut or more of silence.

The way that Talia flinches is probably answer enough, but she feels the urge to say something anyway. Her sister knows her well enough to see through all her armors, so it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t want to talk about it, she’ll need to explain herself either way.

“Yes. A little girl.” she sighs. “The Comissioner daughter.”

Nyssa’s eyes widen. Talia’s glad that she’s not the only one to be alert about their situation ― if Barbara take a wrong step, they’ll all need somewhere to hide, they’ll all be haunted and hunt until their last living days, and it’s not a sane risk to take, not even to someone like them, whose bodies can only be taken down by pure and cursed silver. Even then, Bruce wants to keep her, and Talia can’t do anything about it; if Barbara was older, she would be startled about the possibility of being replaced by the girl in their pack ― but she’s not even six, so there’s nothing to do about it.

“The League could take her down if you want to.” Nyssa says, quietly, almost too quiet to be heard.

For a moment, Talia feels her own heart stopping. She stares at her sister, her mask falling in order to be replaced by pure shock. It would solve all her problems ― well, most of them. It would be enough for Bruce to mourn, it would be enough to make Dick stop being so annoying. And, still… Talia won’t kill a kid. They’re here to remind her about her own failure, about the fact that she didn’t bring her mate a child yet. She breathes deeply before shaking her head, hiding her trembling fingers by closing her hands into fists above her tighs.

“No, Nyssa. We – We can’t – Bruce would never –”

“He would never know.” Nyssa approaches, all her body tense. “Think, Talia. We take the kid down, the threat is over. We won’t _ever_ need to be scared about being hunt down by the government. Not again.”

She wants to repeat her first answer. She really wants. The ‘no’ is already in her tongue, slipping through her lips, but then she notices that they’re not alone. And right at the door, deathly pale as a ghost, Dick Grayson stares at them with utter terror written all over his features. Talia doesn’t even has time to call him before the boy’s running away, being loud enough to startle Nyssa, whose wide eyes immediately go to the place where he was only seconds before.

“Shit. I didn’t mean to –”

“Get away from my house!” Talia glances her sister a look torn between fury and panic. “ _Now!_ ”

Nyssa doesn’t dare to defy the older; she stares at her for only a moment longer, and then launches herself against the window, shattering the glass and taking her full-wolf form, running down the Wayne’s residence and disappearing in the forest right before Bruce appears in the door. Talia takes a step in the window direction, putting herself between him and her sister, all her body tense, ready to fight if she needs to. She doesn’t know why ― she doesn’t want to say it out loud again, not anymore ―, but his wrathful glare hurts her.

Bruce doesn’t seem to notice. He never notices anything about her.

“Where is your sister?” he asks, his strong voice sounding sharp in her ears, cold like the winds of winter.

Talia ignores the low, deep growl that seems to come from his throat, pretending not to care about her own wolf urging to fight ― she’s too proud to say that it’s not what Dick heard, that she won’t ever kill the little girl, that she won’t hurt his, _their_ pack, she’s too proud to try and make him believe her, when he clearly doesn’t want to hear a word about it. Bruce doesn’t trust her. Why should she try and make him think otherwise?

“It’s none of your business.”

Bruce is faster than Nyssa transforming, a long, scratching sound reverberating through his bones, a loud growl echoing through the house, his teeth showing dangerously. His fur is black, his paws and claws big and long enough to kill her ― in human form ― with a move. But Talia’s not scared. She doesn’t mind about his wolf form ― she saw him before, she knows how he can be when he’s like this. And she’s not afraid to die. Nyssa is _hers_. Her little sister, _her little girl_. And Bruce Wayne can go to hell if he thinks she’ll let him hurt her.

“Go on, beloved.” she opens her arms. “Kill me, if that’s what you want. I won’t fight you.”

_pack. mate. alpha. protect. ours. won’t hurt. won’t fight. ours._

And, for a moment, when his eyes meet hers, Talia thinks he’ll do it ― she thinks that he’ll launch himself at her body and tear her apart. But, a second later, Bruce growls again, shakes his head, and takes the same route Nyssa took before, jumping and not even bothering to look at his wife again. Something inside Talia breaks, and she falls to her knees, shaking, hoping ― and daring to pray ― that Nyssa was fast enough to cover her scent before Bruce has the chance to find her.

Talia has lost enough.

**III**

The third time Bruce brings a kid to their home is because he wants to.

It’s been eight months and a half since the day Nyssa ran away from the Wayne Manor. Talia’s been constantly watched, Bruce doesn’t let her not even near the kids anymore, and it’s starting to get in her nerves. She can’t even get out of the place without someone following her ― usually is Alfred, because, apparently, the butler can take care of himself without a wolf like Bruce after him. Talia wouldn’t ever dream about hurting the man, but she’s starting to make her angry nonetheless. Her husband doesn’t trust her, and the fact causes her pain. She’s not a fool. She knows that, even if she doesn’t want them, the kids are part of their pack now. She knows that Bruce cares about them.

She wouldn’t _ever_ hurt her own pack.

She wouldn’t _ever_ hurt _him_.

Talia sighs quietly to herself, crossing her arms against her chest, trying to fight the feeling that burns inside her. _It hurts._ She loves him, and it hurts to think that Bruce doesn’t believe her. That’s why she can’t go out anymore, not alone. That’s why she can’t hunt like before, that’s why she can’t run in the forest without a destination in mind. _Bruce won’t let her_. And although she knows the reason why he follows her, her wolf’s starting to get bothered. Bruce’s her husband, her mate and her alpha, but he’s not her _owner_. He doesn’t have the right to lock her in like he’s doing, he doesn’t have the right to take away her freedom.

And she knows that they need to talk about it. Her pride and her heart are hurt, but it doesn’t mean that she’ll be stupid. Talia doesn’t want to fight, she only wants him to stop treating her like she’s the enemy, like she’s a threat. Talia goes after him, pretending not to notice the way Alfred looks at her when she walks in the corridor he’s cleaning ― she’s not forbidden to walk in the Manor, at least, and, when the kids are near, the only thing she needs to do is avoid them.  She only wants to talk with him, in a civilized manner. Just once. It won’t hurt neither of them, trying to be reasonable.

Talia’s ready to talk with him, she’s already thinking about what she needs to say, but, when she’s almost knocking the door from his ― now reformed ― private room, Bruce beats her at it, opening it. They stare at each other for a moment, his eyes confused, her eyes full of surprise. Talia doesn’t want to fight, she doesn’t want to make him worried about being betrayed by his own wife, but, at the same time, she doesn’t want him to think that he can cage her like a wild bird. She’s not a bird, and she’s not his ― he doesn’t want her, he can’t demand this.

“I was going to search for you.” Bruce says, calmly, his eyes almost, almost soft, almost affectionate. Like he doesn’t know that Talia was _craving_ for it, craving for his attention, craving for his care since the start of it all. “We need to talk.”

She breathes deeply, trying to hold back all the feelings that flood her inside, trying to fight the urge to kiss him again and again and again, until he stops considering her a threat for his ― _their_ ― pack. It doesn’t matter. He’s not going to forgive her for something he _believes_ she did. Talia needs to find a way to fix this, to make him trust her again.

“As you wish, beloved.”

They sit opposite each other, Talia taking the care to wait him before making anything. She closes her hands against her tighs, looking at him, daring to hope that they have the same thing in mind. If he thought about it, it means that she’s not so silly, that she’s not so stupid like she thought before. It means that _he cares._ She’s having a hard time trying to control her shaking body.

“I need you to watch my back today.” Bruce starts, after a moment or two just staring at her, his face not showing anything. “An old... Friend of mine said that she has something that may interest my – _our_ pack, but I don’t know how much of this can be false, and I – _we_ need to be careful.”

Time seems to stop for Talia. She looks at him, not even trying to hide how hurt she feels. Bruce at least has the decency to seem ashamed, looking away and sighing. But Talia swallows her anger ― and her pain ― because it’s not that important anyway. Being in a pack it’s not something about her, it’s about _them_ , _all of them_. And if there’s something happening, they need to know; she can deal with her feelings later. It doesn’t matter how she’s feeling now, because Dick’s not old enough to fight on his own ― hell, he’s not even big enough for a fight ―, and Barbara can’t even control her wolf form yet. And Bruce can’t be left alone. If he doesn’t trust whoever it is this “old friend”, he can’t go without someone to help him if he needs to.

“Okay.”

Bruce looks at her, his eyes widening a little. He doesn’t seem to believe her, but Talia doesn’t mind. She’s tired of trying to win his trust. If he won’t believe her words, she’ll need to win him over acts. _And she will_. She can’t stop hoping, she can’t stop loving him. They have eternity to be together, he’ll certainly feel something for her along the way. She just can’t stop trying.

“Are you sure?” Bruce’s features soften. “You don’t need to, if you don’t want it.”

The only thing Talia wants is him to take care of her ― not because she needs to, but because she wants him to do it. Just once. That’s all she’s asking for. But he won’t understand her pleads, he won’t understand if she ask with words. He’ll never understand. He needs to feel it. He needs to want it.

“We’re pack, beloved.” she stares at her own hands, wishing that he can’t hear the way her voice cracks a little. “We’re supposed to look for each other.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything more.

Talia wasn’t expecting him to.

**.**

They’re quietly waiting for Selina Kyle’s arrival. Talia’s not feeling better, not even in her wolf form. Her distress is finally starting to affect Bruce, he’s looking at her from time to time, worry slowly showing in his eyes. He’s not in his wolf form, but even then he seems to feel her discomfort. He probably doesn’t understand. She’s not like this because she believes that they’ll need to fight; she’s like this because she wants _freedom_. It’s been so long since she transformed alone, she just wants to run a little, she just wants to feel free again. It’s not fair. Bruce makes her feel like a caged bird. He makes her feel… _Trapped_.

However, once her senses catch the barely glimpse of another scents approaching, Talia calms down, sitting at his side, her eyes careful, her ears prepared to listen to any sound around them. Bruce notices it, and immediately his posture changes. He has straighten shoulders and a sharp look by the time a woman and a boy emerge from behind the trees. The kid is tall, has tiny lips, black hair, and his eyes are blue ― almost as blue as Dick’s. He must be, _at the most_ , ten years old. The woman, however, it’s another story. She’s beautiful, her features soft, her hair black and short. There’s something feline ― there’s something _dangerous_ ― in the way she smiles, her lips red, her eyes glowing in fun.

It’s the first time in her entire life that Talia meets Selina, and she already hates her. Talia certainly _doesn’t like_ to feel threatened ― and even more: she doesn’t like the way the woman looks at her, like Talia’s some kind of joke.

“Bruce.” Selina smiles to him, all teeth showing. Her canines are slightly sharper than Talia’s in human form, and it sends a red alarm echoing through her mind. She doesn’t like her. _She doesn’t like her_.

Talia wants to attack the woman. Even her _wolf_ wants to. But Bruce can feel it too, he can feel her anger, and his hand reaches the fur in her neck, caressing it carefully ― just like he did with her hair in their first night together ―, and that’s what makes her choose not to growl at the other, quietly hoping for him to keep doing it. And Bruce, for the first time, does. And she feels so powerful right now, so wanted, she feels like she can do anything. Something inside Talia _melts_.

“Selina.”

“Who’s the wolf this time?” the amusement in her voice breaks Talia’s peace. She looks at Selina, a little distressed by her words, and worry starts to grow up in her chest. “Another partner of yours?”

Bruce frowns slightly, something in his eyes changing. Talia stares at him for a moment. _Another?_

“It’s not a good moment to talk about it.”

The way he tries to avoid the conversation clicks everything inside her mind. Talia looks at him, and then and Selina. A low and guttural sound escapes from her throath, and Bruce’s fingers suddenly close against her dark fur ― no longer caring and not even cautiously. Talia could bite her hand and hurt him, part of her wants to, but even now she’s not going to. _They’re pack._ It shouldn’t matter how she feels, because hurting him now it’d mean making the pack weaker, it’d mean putting all of them in danger.

Even wanting to hate them, Talia won’t put Dick and Barbara’s lifes in risk ― _she won’t_. She’ll have time to talk with Bruce later. He’ll tell her what Selina meant, he’ll tell her everything he was supposed to from the start. The thought makes Talia calm down a little, but her eyes are kept fixed in the woman. Selina smiles brightly.

“Okay, then.” she takes the hair out of her eyes, her movements slow, seeming to believe that it’s funny to mess with Bruce. “Everybody’s hearing that you adopted two kids without pack, is that true?”

Talia wants to go away. She looks at the boy ― so young, so quiet, whose eyes seem to has so much pain, much more than he was supposed to know ―, and then stares at Bruce. She wants to know what’s going through his mind, she wants to understand him. She _needs_ to understand him. She’s craving for his thoughts, for his words, she wants to know exactly what’s happening, why everybody seems to know about her shame. Ra’s would be so disappointed with her ― the League. Talia misses her old family, but, above all, she misses her sister. Bruce never told her if he found Nyssa, and she never asked, but at least she knows that the girl’s still alive.

“I suppose so.” Bruce’s eyes finally go to the boy, and he doesn’t seem surprised. _Liar,_ Talia whines discretely for herself. _He’s a liar._ Why would he seem so ok with everything right now? She wants to bite him. “And you’re asking because…?”

“Because I’ve got you a boy.” Selina pushes the boy. “His name’s Terry. He’s a good kid.”

Terry looks at them ― Talia and Bruce ― and shrugs quietly. He seems so out of place, his eyes watching with caution, his hands inside his pockets. Bruce frees Talia, ignoring her sharp look in his back, and approaches Terry. The boy stares at him, his features holding anger, trying to cover how terrified he feels. Talia can _smell_ his fear ― and she dares to feel sorry for the boy.

“Is that true, Terry?”

He tries to look at Selina, but she’s not giving him any attention now. Talia practically _feels_ the way he shivers before staring directly at Bruce. He straightens his shoulders, his features hardening a little. Bruce only watches him with amusement pouring down his body ― and Talia knows, _she knows what it means,_ but she doesn’t want to think about it, not now, not with Selina near them. She swallows the knot in her throat, her claws digging further in the ground, anger shooting through her body like wild fire.

“I’m not a kid.” Terry finally says, his voice surprisingly firm for his age. “I can take care of myself.”

_Then why did he came?_

“You think so?” but Bruce doesn’t seem to care ― even him can see how much the kid’s trying to hold still. He fears, like he’s supposed to, but he’s determined to show that he doesn’t need to be in a pack for pity. Only a small part of Talia likes him for it ― her wolf more than her, because he’s _strong_ in a way, he _won’t need_ to be watched all the time like the others. But it doesn’t change nothing, in the end, when Bruce turns his look to Selina, his hand already reaching for Terry’s shoulder. “We’ll keep him.”

Talia grunts, not even caring about the fact that the boy stares at her with dazed eyes. Selina smiles ― half truly, half amused, noticing the way Talia’s wolf form shakes with rage for not being consulted about something so important for their pack.

“We, uh?” but, then, she shakes her head, the smile fading. “Take care of him, Bruce. And, Terry –”

“Watch your back.” the boy crosses his arms, sounding a little childish. “I know, I know.”

“That’s why you came?” Bruce asks Selina, and something in his eyes soften. Talia never wanted so badly to launch herself at him, feeling the pain flooding her head. _It’s too much. He doesn’t even look at her. He’s always looking at someone else. Too much. Too much._ “Don’t you want to stay the night? We have enough guest rooms.”

The woman seems confused. She looks at Talia ― her eyes surprised, a little hurt ― and then at Bruce again. She probably knows that Talia’s his wife; _everybody probably knows._ And now she knows about her shame, she knows how Talia feels ― not because Talia told anyone, but because Bruce _shows_ to people how he feels about her. She _thinks_ about it before shaking her head.

“Nah, you know me. I have things to do, places to go, kids to watch.” Selina’s smile doesn’t seem so real this time. “See you around, Bruce.”

He doesn’t have time to answer, she’s fast turning her back and running to the forest. They ― Talia, Bruce, Terry ― watch while Selina disappears behind the trees. Talia feels betrayed, and more: she feels _upset._ Bruce didn’t even think before saying that they’ll stay with the boy, he didn’t even look at her before saying it out loud. It seems that Talia’s only to show, only for him to make other people know that he has a wife, that he’s not alone to protect their ― _his_ ― pack; and even then, he doesn’t seem to need her.

“Who’s her, Mr. Wayne?”

Talia stares at the boy, too overwhelmed with her feelings to try and keep her composure. Bruce’s smile is small, his eyes distant, like his mind’s far away from here ― like he wants to let them alone and follow Selina. But Terry seems curious, a lot more relaxed now that there’s only them, now that he seems to believe that he’s got a new pack and doesn’t need to keep searching.

“She’s my wife.”

Terry frowns. He doesn’t even think before answering.

“You’re lying.” when Bruce looks at him with arched eyebrows, the boy shrugs. “Everybody knows that he League fooled you and your wife’s sick, Mr. Wayne. She can’t give you heirs, and that’s why you keep accepting kids inside your pack, isn’t it?”

Bruce seems shocked, his eyes widening, too horrified by seeing a child saying something like this to react in time to answeer him. And Talia loses it. She’s tired. She’s so, so tired of trying to make him believe her ― tired of trying to give him what he wants. She howls, long, loud, finally standing, and Bruce looks at her, finally ― _finally_ ― guilty about making her pass through all of this.

“Talia…”

She growls at him, not even caring to control the feelings that flood everything inside her ― not caring about the way Terry takes a step back, his eyes wide, worry taking his features. _Betrayal. Bruce’s a liar. He’s betrayed her._ He promised, under her family eyes, under the moon and stars, that he would respect her, that he would make her his wife, his mate, his beloved one. _Talia believed him._ She believed his vows, she thought he would keep them.

Talia runs. She runs because, if she stays, she’ll attack him. She’ll bite him, and she’ll want to hurt him ― just like he hurt her. And she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want to hurt him, she doesn’t want to fight him. Even if he won’t keep his words, she’ll keep hers ― she vowed to be his mate, his partner, his right hand. If she can’t be, _because he doesn’t want her to be,_ she won’t hurt him. That’s why she runs, deep, deep down in the forest, letting all her feelings being washed over by the empty, quiet solitude guaranteed by the trees.

Bruce doesn’t go after her.

She doesn’t come back until two, three days later.

And they don’t talk about it.

**IV**

The fourth time Bruce brings a kid to their home, Talia stops counting.

She’s not even trying to understand him anymore, she’s just trying to don’t get mad. It’s been fourteen months since the day they ― _Bruce_ ― let Terry as a pack member. Talia’s going out of her mind. Terry’s a good boy, he really is, and he can even manage to make Dick and Barbara shut up for a few hours, helping them with their skills and being something almost as a teacher for both. But it feels _wrong_. Talia’s been married with Bruce for _four years_ now, and, yet, they don’t have a child. She _knows_ that she can have children, _she knows_ , but she’s starting to feel frightened. She’s not so desperate about being mother ― not because she doesn’t believe she’ll be a good mother, but because she never thought about it ―, but she knows that Bruce must want a heir. That’s why she’s still here, that’s why she came.

And Talia can’t stop thinking that, maybe, if Bruce was with Selina, she’d have give him a lot of pups to take care of; and then he wouldn’t need to go searching for new pack members like he does with Talia. The thought makes her heart beat in a painful way, betrayed and, yet, wanting to be the wife he’d hoped for. And it’s not because he’s her alpha ― _it’s not_ , she knows ―, it’s because she loves him. And even then, it’s not because of Bruce that she makes a visit to the hospital. Oh, no. Talia wants to give him good heirs, of course that she wants, but, deep down, she wants to be a mother too. She wants her own kids, her own pups, she wants the connection she sees so many times between mothers and their sons. Maybe a little girl? A little boy? Both? She surely wants to have a little princess, or a little prince, she doesn’t care too much about gender, actually. Talia only wants her own child; her own little pup ― or pups ― to love.

That’s why, even knowing that there’s nothing wrong with her body ― not in this case ―, Talia goes after a doctor, making test and running exams about her fertility and capacity to have children. She won’t be the disgrace of her family, and she _won’t_ live without a child. She _wants_ to have a kid ― blood of her blood, flesh of her flesh. Dick’s the only one of Bruce’s ― _theirs_ ― pack that’s slightly similar to her: her skin, her features, her eye shape; but Talia knows that he doesn’t trust her entirely, not anymore, not after hearing what Nyssa said. Dick’s not so overprotective like Bruce, but he keeps an eye on her when Barbara’s in the room ― and, deep down, Talia finds it a bit _cute_. Dick’s only _eight_ and, yet, he’s always ready to fight for a pack member, even _knowing_ that Talia’s older and stronger, and if she really wanted the girl dead she’d make it on her own.

Her wolf ― and Talia ― wants a kid like him. It doesn’t need to be strong like Bruce, it doesn’t need to be smart like Barbara, or even responsible like Terry. It needs to be loyal like Dick ― that’s all she’s asking for. A loyal child, who’ll love her no matter what, who’ll be ready to fight on her side even if they’re fated to lose. Talia didn’t know how much she was _craving_ for it until now, when she’s coming back to the manor, her eyes watching the road while she drives. She wants her pup, her little human-being, all warm and tiny and _loud_ on her arms, and she wants it _fast._

Her thoughts are cut in the moment Talia parks the car in front of the Manor. She gets out of the vehicle, sensing the odd scents coming from inside. She knows better than go ready to attack ― specially after Dick’s arrival ―, but it doesn’t change how much it disturbs her to walk calm and cautiously to her own front door. And even later, when she enters and hears a distressed and low laugh coming from the living room. Talia already deduces what’s happening in there, but she wants to _see_ , she wants the proof.

And she’s not disappointed ― not even _slightly surprised_ ― to get in and find Bruce and a young couple comfortably accomodated in the room, talking. Dick’s in the room, a big smile on his face, playing with a little boy in the carpet, and Terry’s near, but only watching, his eyes observing the scene, only absorbing what he thinks it’s important. He’s the first to notice Talia, and a flash of smile passes through his lips before he gets back watching Dick and the other boy. A second later, Bruce and the couple look at her.

“Talia.” he moves for her to sit at his side, and that’s what she does. “These are the Drake family, Janet, Jack and the little Timothy.”

She’s careful enough to offer them a kind smile, not wishing to know why they’re here, and more: why _Dick and Terry_ are here, playing with the child like they’ve done it their entire lives. Bruce puts an arm around her waist, his fingers brushing her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, along with her desire for more warmth. Just because Talia’s trying to be more realistic doesn’t mean she doesn’t want him to try and care for her.

“Tim was bitten for a runaway in a show, when he was being taken care of by his nanny.” Bruce explains, her voice calm, soft. Talia breathes deeply. “Our Council knew it was a dangerous pure-blood, and so they told his parents what’s his condition.”

“They kept us updated about what we could do for our son, and only this.” Jack says, and looks at his wife, his features flooding with care and love. Talia’s stomach churns. “We were told that there’s nothing we can do, now. It’s been five months, and from now on he can start the transformation at any time. They told us that, without a pack in a moment so delicate, our Timmy can get crazy and… And turn into a monster.”

Talia knows all of this. She knows that, being so young, the boy’ll probably lose his humanity ― and even barely being a wolf, he’ll be dangerous to any of them. Losing his mind would mean losing everything, and so he wouldn’t need to fear ― or care about ― anything. She stares at the boy for a moment, watching the way he giggles quietly and laughs whenever Dick does something, poking his nose or saying nonsense. He’s similar to the boy, but his red cheeks and small smile tell Talia that he has a shyness that it’s nothing like Dick.

“We heard that you and your husband are… Helping childs without pack, Mrs. Wayne.” Janet breaks her thoughts, and she looks at the woman. Janet has big, scared eyes, and her hands are shaking. “We know it’s too much pretension to think that you can afford – I mean, that you’d _want_ him, but we… We don’t know what to do anymore, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne.”

Her voice cracks a little. Talia feels sorry for her, breathing deeply. Bruce’s hand tightens a little against her skin, and she doesn’t dare to say anything. It doesn’t matter, in the end. Her eyes immediately go to the boy ― the little, little Timothy, whose eyes are so full of life and admiration ―, and Talia asks herself what she’d do if it was _her son_ there. What’d she do if she knew that he was cursed to live a life like theirs ― always in need to supress his feelings and his anger and _everything_ to never hurt who’s important to him. Her features soften a little ― understanding Janet’s feelings about Timothy ―, and, with a sigh, she leans against Bruce.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting the better for your kid, Mrs. Drake.” he gives the woman a warm smile, and Talia closes her eyes for a moment. “We’ll help Tim, I promise you this.”

Talia doesn’t dare to say a thing.

The only reason why she hates them is because they stole Bruce from her ― the care that was supposed to be _hers_ is directed to _them_ , and she can’t forgive it. It doesn’t matter if they’re just kids, not now, only now; _she just wanted to be loved like them._

**.**

It’s late on the same night, when they’re lying side by side in their ― _their_ ― room, when Bruce’s holding her and Talia’s letting herself relax for a moment, when it happens. What she dreamed of so many times, what she hoped for so many nights, what she wished for so long ― and thought it’d be kept only in her mind, in her heart for as much as she dared to think about it.

“I love you.” Bruce says, weakly, almost inaudible against her dark hair.

But he’s looking at her in the eyes. He’s not saying like he wants the whole world to hear him, he’s not even trying to keep her against his chest. One of his hands is on her back, of course, but he doesn’t seem to want to make her be closer. It’s ironic how much she wanted freedom before, and, now that she finally understood how things are going to be, he’s letting her go if she wants to. And everything for what? It’s because she didn’t say anything about Timothy? It’s because she let him in, because she didn’t try to make Bruce think otherwise about keeping another child in their pack? And now he feels like he needs to compensate her?

Talia stiffens for barely a second ― Bruce feels it, finally watching her with caution ―, but, then, she sighs. It’s just numb, now. The pain in her chest, her hurt heart. Everything’s already too numb, too bruised for him to be able to hurt her even more. She smiles quietly, half-heartedly, and leans in to kiss his jaw, his skin soft under her lips..

“You’re lying.”

Bruce’s eyes are full of shadows, guilt showing amongst them, but Talia keeps her lips next to his, her hands on his chest, her body against his. It doesn’t matter anymore, not at all. She knows that fighting will only make them fall apart, will only make them distance themselves, and she doesn’t want it. She was hoping for a family ― and, even not having a child, she already has. She’ll do whatever it costs to keep it. Dick, Barbara, Terry, and the little Timothy ― _Tim_ ―, they’re her pack now. It doesn’t matter what she thinks ― or thought ― about them, they’re her family. And she won’t lose them, not like she lost Bruce.

Talia breathes deeply, drowning in his warmth, the softness of his fingers against her back.

“Say it again, beloved.”

And Bruce does.

**V**

The fifth child is the only one who doesn’t want to be in their pack.

If Talia wasn’t happy before, she’s even less happy after Stephanie Brown comes into picture. It’s not the kid’s fault, really ― and Talia, unfortunately, can’t say the same about Bruce. It’s all his fault that _everybody_ ― even the _Council_ ― knows about “their habit” of adopting childs in need. It’s all his fault that they’re _demanded_ to let her in, to let the girl stay in their house while the Council decides on what to do with her parents, whose crimes put almost the whole wolves community under alert ― the fear of being discovered’s still strong, and even Talia’s uncomfortable. The last time it happened, it was her father’s time, and he told her and Nyssa _exactly_ what the wolves needed to do to survive. And, although she’s not their best fan, Talia doesn’t want any of their kids ― _their pack_ ― being hurt by humans.

And she won’t even _start to think_ about hunters; she doesn’t want to get paranoid, thank you.

What, however, doesn’t change anything. She gets back to the present moment, watching with half amused eyes while Bruce tries to convince Stephanie to stay still, trying to clean the small cuts in her face, Alfred at his side, the butler’s face stoic, his hands holding medicine and cottons. The girl’s giving the Wayne heir a hard time, messing with her and Tim’s classmates ― even being a year older, she repeated in school for complete absence during most of half a year, probably because of her father’s illegal works ―, arguing with teachers, too defiant to a six-year-old. Although Talia thinks it’s fun to watch the tired look on Bruce’s face whenever he needs to pick the girl and Tim ― because, even without doing anything, Tim’s _always_ with the girl ― in school after some incident, she’s starting to get worried about her attitude.

Stephanie’s too defensive, too rebel to a kid. She acts more like a teenager, and Talia’s wolf worries about her ― in a confused, troublesome way.

“It’s not my fault!” Stephanie whines, struggling against Bruce’s hold, trying to avoid the cotton wet with medicine, because, again, her and Tim have a day off because she fought a bunch of five-year-old girls who, apparently, mocked Drake for having only a friend that’s _way_ more violent than other kids at her age. “They were assholes anyway!”

“Language, Miss Brown.” Alfred warns her.

She gives him a cold look, but doesn’t say anything ― and Talia’s still dazed about how every child in this house listens to the butler, even when they clearly don’t want to.

“You can’t punch everyone who bothers you, Steph.” Bruce sighs heavily, apparently not noticing the way she immediately gives him a death glare. “You’re stronger than them, you know this, and it’s unfair.”

“Then it’s not unfair to joke about Tim’s anxiety?” she asks, angry, her features hardening. When Bruce frowns, murmuring ‘ _it’s not what I said_ ’ and trying to reach her hair to get it out or her face and see any other cuts that he might haven’t noticed, Stephanie slaps his hand away, surprising both him and Talia. “And don’t call me Steph! You’re not my father!”

Bruce watches with a blank face ― but sad eyes ― when she gets up and moves away from him.

“You’re not even my family, old man! You can’t force me to obey you!”

When she runs away, nobody’s surprised ― not even Tim, whose eyes watched everything and are full of guilt and sadness ―, but Talia’s still disturbed about the girl’s outburst. Bruce might have the sensibility of a teaspoon, but she doesn’t, and she knows: it’s not just about distrust. There’s something _very wrong_ with Stephanie Brown ― something scaring her away from them.

And she wants to know what.

**.**

Three days later, it’s not an overstatement to say that Talia’s shocked when Stephanie approaches her with defeated shoulders and a split lip. She watches the girl rubbing her neck uncomfortably, all her posture confused and hurt, ready to run away again at the least signal of danger. Talia decides to play along, not wanting the girl to go ― she might not like her, just how she doesn’t like most of the other kids in her pack, but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t notice the sadness in Tim’s face everytime Bruce asks if Brown showed up and receives a denial in response. Tim’s probably the only kid in the house whose Talia feels the need to take care of; mostly because he’s too respectful and quiet and shy for her to do otherwise.

“Hello, Stephanie.” the girl looks at her with distrustful eyes. “Want me to take a look at this lip?”

Stephanie hesitates for a brief moment, and then she nods, looking away again, her blonde hair curling up around her face and hiding her eyes a little. Talia sighs, standing and going to the bathroom ― making sure not to watch the girl the whole time, not wanting her to feel even more uncomfortable ―, searching for medicine and curatives she knows Alfred keeps in every bathroom of the house, for emergencies.

She doesn’t know exactly how to deal with the girl, she doesn’t want to push her too far, but she doesn’t want to take care of her either. This is Bruce’s job, it’s his fault that Stephanie’s here anyway ― where she doesn’t want to be, with people who she mostly doesn’t like, being forced to behave in a way she’s probably not used to.

“Come here.”

When Stephanie approaches, letting Talia see her bruised lips, the woman takes a moment to observe her face. The girl’s not only uncomfortable, she’s _frightened,_ and Talia knows that it’s something the kid doesn’t want her to comment about, like Bruce always does. Maybe that’s the reason why she reached for Talia, and not him. But, then, there’s always Alfred too; and he’s way better than her at making bandages than her.

The girl flinches at the first contact with the medicine.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that bad.” Talia almost, _almost_ gives her a smile when Stephanie’s wide eyes stare at her in half awe, half amusement. “What? I know how’s to get into a fight, kid.”

The comment makes Stephanie smile, her features softening a little, and Talia keeps herself quiet again. The silence’s comfortable, she doesn’t feel the need to ask the girl where she’ve been, she doesn’t want her to talk about how she feels, or her parents, or the Council ― or even Bruce. If Stephanie wants to talk, she’ll talk; and Talia’s wolf says that she will.

And she’s right.

“Tim said that you wouldn’t ask me anything.” the girl starts, muttering almost to herself. “I said he was a liar, but… He was right, wasn’t him?”

“I won’t ask.” Talia shrugs, and Stephanie stares at her, her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not like Bruce, kid. If you need to talk, go and talk. If you don’t want to, trying to force you won’t help anything.”

Stephanie seems to think about it.

“Why do you keep calling me kid?”

From every question Talia thought she’d ask, that’s the last one. She frowns, but Stephanie’s looking at her with innocent eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Because you’re one.”

The response seems to confuse Brown even more ― but she doesn’t ask anything yet. Talia finalizes the curative, feeling like she’s made her part. She’s ready to stand and go away, to let the girl thinking about whatever she’s thinking now, when Stephanie decides that she wants to talk more.

“Dad didn’t think like you.” when Talia gives the girl a confused look, it’s clear that she bites the inside of her mouth. “He said I’m grown up enough to stop whining like a kid. He put me in his ring of fights on the last semester. That’s how we were discovered.”

Talia _tries not to,_ but her eyes widen in shock. She wasn’t expecting this. She wasn’t expecting the girl to be forced into something so _cruel._ And it makes sense. Everything makes sense now. She notices, too, how Stephanie said _we,_ and not only _him._ It makes her discomfort grow up, a heavy sigh escaping through her lips. The girl looks at her, eyes big, full of tears she doesn’t seem ready to share yet.

“He said it was my fault.” Stephanie confesses, her voice small, frightened. “About what happened. About him and mom being arrested.”

“He was _wrong._ ”

The assurance in Talia’s voice makes Stephanie looks at her with eyes even wider, but the woman doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore. She’s _mad._ Mad at the poor kid’s father, whose arrogance was high enough to say something so cruel for a _child._ She’d be able to kill him with her bare hands if she could find him right now.

“You’re a kid.” Talia stares at the girl, her hands closed into fists, so sure about what she’s saying that there’s not even a glint of doubt in Brown’s eyes. “You’re supposed to be childish, you’re not supposed to _fight,_ Stephanie. What he said doesn’t change this, it won’t make you grow up faster, it’ll only hurt you.”

The blonde presses her lips in a thin line, considering Talia’s words. And the al Ghul heiress gives her an assuring smile, daring to caress her hair for a moment.

“And, between us, I’m glad that you’re helping Tim with the other kids.”

Stephanie doesn’t even try to hide her proud smile ― Talia asks herself if the girl was ever praised in her life. And, the next time Stephanie fights in school, she hears Bruce’s lecture without saying a word ― she doesn’t even gives him death glares ―, but the glow in her eyes tells the woman everything.

She decides that, maybe, _only maybe,_ she likes these kids.

Just a little bit.

**VI**

The sixth child is not a child anymore.

Talia’s been relatively ok with the kids ― she’s trying, at least. They get along well when she’s not in a bad mood or trying to truly hate them. And that’s how they ― all of them: Dick, Barbara, Terry, Tim and Stephanie ― ended up in the kitchen, watching her carefully while Talia tests her skills with sweets. The smell is _awful._ Talia’s looking at her half burned cookies, trying to understand what she did wrong. Barbara’s frowning slightly, Stephanie doesn’t seem to mind, and Tim’s smiling a little, appearing to be the only one who’s ready to try and eat it if she asks them ― because he’s still a cute boy, all “Mrs. Wayne” here and there. Terry only watches them with amused eyes, and Dick’s not even trying to cover his laugh at her pathetic excuse for sweets. Talia’s a grown up woman, _she’s not pouting._ She’s not.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” she sighs, squinting her eyes at the food. “I’ve followed the recipe!”

“You should’ve called Alfred.” Dick poks his fingers at one cookie, the smile big and bright in his face making hard for Talia to be mad at him. “His sweets are always good!”

Tim approaches and takes one, staring at it with a face full of doubt. But Stephanie beats him at it, taking the cookie from his hand and shoving it at her mouth. Talia would say something about the way the girl does it ― she doesn’t need to be so violent ―, but she’s too busy staring at her with expectant eyes. Stephanie keeps chewing for a moment or two, and, when swallowing, she pulls a face.

“It’s _awful._ ” she complains.

Dick’s laugh is so loud that almost hurts Talia’s ears. _Now_ she’s pouting.

“You’re cruel, little robin.”

The boy’s smile fades immediately, and the room goes unusually quiet. Talia’s busy for a moment, making a pile of burned cookies and trying to decide what to do with it. She only notices that there’s something wrong when she sees Barbara’s ― the nearest kid ― wide eyes. She looks at all of them, arching her eyebrows with curiosity. Barbara seems to shocked to say anything, Stephanie has sharp eyes, Terry seems as confused as Talia, and Tim’s the only one staring at Dick right now. Dick, whose eyes are fixed on the floor, whose lips are pressed together in a thin line. Talia replays what she said in her mind, but she doesn’t know what she did wrong. And it feels wrong ― she didn’t say it trying to make him feel bad, it wasn’t her intention to hurt him. Dick’s not a bad kid, and he shouldn’t feel otherwise.

“Hey.” she calls him, her voice too soft, too full of care. He looks at her. “What’s wrong, Dick?”

The boy shrugs a little, quiet. Part of Talia wants to drop the subject and never talk about it again, but she’s too stubborn for it. She wants to know.

“It’s nothing.” Dick finally says, and he gives her a half-heartedly sile. “Just… My mom used to call me robin. And she – she was horrible at making sweets too.”

Oh. _Oh._ Talia feels ashamed ― well, kind of. She wasn’t thinking when she said the nickname, it just slipped off. She doesn’t regret it, though. She knows that it’s personal, and she’ll keep it in mind from now on, but she likes to know this kind of thing. Talia doesn’t remember anything about her mother ― and she’s glad that Dick does remember his.

“I –”

She’s interrupted by something being broken in the hall. All her body stiffens, the little wolves around her getting alarmed with the scent of blood, all of them too young to know _whose blood_ is. Talia looks at Terry ― just for a moment, a brief moment ― and, while the boy nods, she runs. _Take care of them,_ that’s what she wants to say, but she swallows the words; she knows that Terry will look out for them.

What, however, Talia’s not expecting is to find Bruce and another woman in the hall. She’s on the ground ― smelling like rain and perfume and blood and _Bruce_ ― and he’s _leaning_ to her. Talia’s mind goes _wild._ It’s not a child, it’s a _woman._ A woman like she was when she married him ― young and _fertile._ She wants to scream or bite his hands, whatever it comes first. And it’s not because Bruce’s with another woman ― if it was the case, then she’d have bit him before, when they got Terry, when he looked at Selina with pleading eyes, almost kneeling to ask her to stay. It’s because _her wolf_ feels it too.

Talia’s feeling frightened. She feels _betrayed._ She’s _hurting._ Bruce doesn’t have the right to do it ― Talia _doesn’t care_ about what he’s thinking, he just can’t. She’s trying, she’s really trying, he can’t just throw all her efforts out the window. It doesn’t matter that the woloves are mostly used to have more than one wife, _Talia doesn’t want to share._ Bruce won’t replace her, she won’t let him. She reached her breaking point.

And the woman’s the one to notice Talia ― and her full-rage-self ―, her eyes wide, her face losing its color. She whispers a terrified _‘Bruce’_ , and that’s when Talia loses it. She doesn’t think. She doesn’t even try ― she’s too far up on her pain and rage to even _care_ before letting her wolf out. When Bruce finally looks at her, Talia’s in her full-wolf form, growling at him, all teeth and fur and fury.

“Talia!”

But his voice doesn’t reach her. She’s all instinct now. She wants to make him _pay._ Pay for all the pain, for all these years being left behind, for never caring, for never saying, for always lying.

She launches herself at him, barely noticing the way the woman gets out of line, letting time more than enough for Bruce to transform. And Talia can feel his anger pouring down her nerves, drowning her senses. To him, the woman ― _Kate,_ the name drops in her mind all of a sudden, _Kate Kane_ ― is already pack. He thinks that Talia wants to hurt _her,_ and _he’s wrong._

Talia never thought about fighting Bruce. Sure, she felt mad at him before, she wanted to yell at him and to throw things out the window ― but nothing like this, nothing so powerful, so full of pain. She fights him not to win, not to be new alpha of their pack; Talia doesn’t want position, she doesn’t want power, _she wants to hurt him._ She wants him to understand how it is. She doesn’t want to kill, she doesn’t even want to incapacitate him ― althought she _should_ ―, she only wants him to _stop._ Talia knows that Bruce’s used to be alone, she knows that he lost everything, _she knows._ But it’s not fair, it’s not her fault, she didn’t do anything wrong to deserve the way he treats her. And Bruce’s _wrong._ If he thinks she’ll let him bring another women to _their_ pack without telling Talia ― _his wife and his beta_ ― nothing, she’ll show him that it’s not how it works. _It’s not._

And that’s why she sinks her teeth ― sharper than his and, yet, not bigger ― against his fur, daring to go near his throat. Talia wants to _mark_ him. She wants him to _feel it,_ she wants him to feel it _for days._ Throat marks and bites don’t heal in the same way as the rest of their bodies, not for wolves: they leave _scars,_ and Talia wants him to _remember._ Bruce growls and struggles, fighting back, his claws against her back and ribs, scratching, hurting. Now, too busy with adrenaline and rage, Talia can barely feel it, but she knows: he’s not the only one who’ll feel it for days.

_“Stop! Stop it!”_

Barbara screams ― followed by tiny bodies trying to get between her and Bruce ― is what makes Talia stop fighting. She lets Bruce while he does the same thing, both of them backing off, not wanting to hurt any of their kids. Terry and Stephanie ― a medium-sized grey wolf and a small ball of light brown fur ― are next to Bruce, their ears up, their teeth showing to him, and Dick and Tim ― a white and beautiful wolf and a little caramel wolf ― do the same for her. Talia grunts quietly, but doesn’t dare to do anything; she doesn’t want them to consider her as a threat, she doesn’t want to figh them. She won’t _ever_ hurt her own pack, her own childs.

Talia tastes blood on her mouth, bitter, metalic. Bruce watches her ― blood dripping from his fur, smudging the floor with vivid red ―, his eyes full of caution, not trusting her near their kids. Tim’s the first one to drop the ball, approaching her with soft eyes, no longer trying to seem bigger or scary, only showing how lost he feels. Dick whines, a low and sad sound ― his grief and confusion reverbing through their bodies ―, and Barbara starts sobbing. Talia turns her eyes to the little girl, finding her being held close by the red-haired woman ― _Kate Kane_ ―, and her heart cracks a little.

_She won’t watch it._

_hurts. hurts. pack. it hurts._

Talia turns her back to them, and, ignoring the sad whine coming from Tim, she runs. She doesn’t want to see them now, she doesn’t want them to see her now. Talia never felt so weak, so betrayed. Sure, her father never made her think about being _special_ in any kind of way, and she never felt jealous about Nyssa, but now… Now’s _different._ She hoped that, at least with Bruce, she’d be, she doesn’t know, _spoiled._ She thought he’d _care_ ― or, at least, _recognize_ her efforts. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even feel the need to talk with Talia, not about their pack, not about anything.

She wants to bury this pain deep, deep down. She keeps saying this to herself, but she never does it, and maybe that’s the reason why Bruce despises her so much ― maybe that’s why he got a new pack mate: because he needs someone who won’t disappoint him. And Talia wants to hate him, she really wants. But she _can’t,_ and it _hurts._ Talia can’t hate him, it doesn’t matter how she feels about it. _It doesn’t matter._ Her heart keeps beating for him, it keeps hoping to please him. She’s tired of it. She’s just so, _so tired._

Talia keeps running, trying to shut up the voices in her head.

If only she could give up to her instincts.

**.**

It’s been almost six hours since Talia stopped running, her wolf barely able to keep blocking the pain away. She’s in her human form now, curled up against her knees, trying to supress the cold. Usually, her body would be warm enough for her to don’t need to wrap herself in a tight hug, but, right now, she’s healing from the scratches in her back and ribs, and she can’t do both at the same time ― hell, she can’t even transform, because then her body would be bigger, she would be in need of more warmth, and her survival would be compromised. The bruises aren’t even that deep; still, they hurt like hell, and Talia doesn’t want to be in more pain. She takes a sharp breath, shivering quietly, and all her body’s numb. She can’t even feel her fingers anymore, although she knows it’s more because her mind’s turning all her nerves off than from the cold that creeps inside her bones.

She wanted it to work like this all the time ― all the bad feelings, just numb. She wouldn’t feel so stupid, and she wouldn’t feel so _alone._ Something inside Talia howls sadly, hurt, wishing for something that won’t ever happen, for something that she’s already given up. And even when she feels Bruce’s scent and hears steps ― of a wolf, not a man ―, she doesn’t dare to try and look at him, because she doesn’t want to see the pity in his eyes, she doesn’t want to accept her own shame. Bruce wasn’t anything that she’d dreamed of, and, yet, he’s all that she could hope for.

And she hears him howling loud, too loud ― _a calling_ ―, but she only shrugs, drowning further and further inside her own mind, trying to fight the urge to cry. She’s not a child anymore, and she doesn’t want her alpha’s pity. Yet, her body doesn’t seem to mind about what Talia _thinks,_ her eyes watering, and she closes them because she doesn’t want to see him. She’s just too tired to deal with her own broken heart; too sore to fight again, even if it means that she’ll pass directly through her own pride ― she’s too hurt to try and keep it now.

“Talia.” Bruce says, his voice so, so warm, his hands so careful while touching her hair, caressing her skin, her shoulders; like she’s a treasure: fragile. She wants to yell at him, or hold him and cry until all the pain stop, she doesn’t know anymore. “Oh, god, Talia.”

 _I’m sorry,_ she wants to say, but she won’t ― it’s not her fault. And maybe not even his, because he never vowed loyality until their deaths; not for her. Bruce doesn’t apologize, but he’s holding her against his chest, he’s holding her tight, his fingers warm and delicate and _fond._ Talia doesn’t even care about trying to argue when he lifts her up in his arms, attentive enough to don’t touch her bruises. And she keeps her eyes close, relaxing, but not daring to move because she doesn’t want to break the spell. She senses when Dick and Terry approach them ― comfort echoing through her body ― in their wolves form. And Talia feels safe; she feels like she belongs.

“I didn’t let Kate in because I wanted a mate.” Bruce’s fingers caress her face, and Talia finally opens her eyes, looking at him in disbelief. But he’s not looking at her, his face blank, his features not expressing anything, not noticing the way she leans against his shoulder, pretending not to flinch at his words. “I let her in because she needed to, Talia. She won’t replace you, I don’t want her to.”

“I don’t care.” Talia says, because, maybe if she says it enough, she’ll start to believe it.

Bruce doesn’t even seem to mind, not at all, but the fond way he holds her tells her otherwise, and she doesn’t complain. Surprisingly, he doesn’t try to talk with her about it, he doesn’t try to explain further. Talia closes her eyes again, lying against his chest, drowning in his warmth and keeping her mind empty.

In that night, neither of them sleeps alone. Talia holds Tim and Stephanie in a tight hug, Dick and Terry on her back, Bruce holding all of them while the kids are still small enough for him to be able to do it. It’s warm, too warm, their legs and arms all tangled, their bodies practically piled against each other, but Talia doesn’t complain.

It feels safe ― it feels like home.

**VII**

The seventh child is Cassandra Cain.

Talia’s been feeling a little sick for two months in a row now, and she doesn’t know exactly how she feels about it. It’s not something big enough for Bruce to notice, just, sometimes, a morning sickness or tiredness. Talia _knows_ the reason behind this, of course she knows, but she doesn’t want to tell anyone yet. Talia waited for so long, hoped for so long, she just wants to enjoy her moment a little more before start telling her pack the good news. Of course, she’s not a fool, she knows most of them noticed how her mood’s always changing, and how she started to try and pass more time with them ― more than before, anyway.

It’s not that she stopped doing it after the incident with Kate, because she didn’t, but Talia wasn’t so, well, clingy. Her favorite kid to cuddle is Tim, because he’s still very tiny and he’s _quiet_ ― she can stay the entire day with the kid and he won’t say a thing if she doesn’t talk to him first, always too busy drowning in thoughts to try and initiate a conversation. And it’s not that she makes _difference_ between the kids, because she doesn’t, but he’s the only one who never looks at her like she’s going out of her mind when Talia pushes him to lay at her side on the couch.

What’s _exactly_ what they’re doing ― her hands caressing his hair, her eyes glued to the TV, while Tim curls up nearly her lap in a tiny frame ― when they hear a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Tim jumps in place, caught off guard by the loud sound, and Talia sighs heavily before standing. She’s not in a good mood for anything that involves cleaning up. Tim follows her, rubbing his eyes, seeming sleepy and tired ― Talia makes a note inside her mind to keep a close eye on him, to make sure that he’s taking care of himself; the kid’s too dedicated, and it leaves him exhausted to be always one ― or many ― step ahead in his duties.

The thing is: it’s not Dick ― or Stephanie, for all that matters ― who broke something in the kitchen. Talia’s so used to the scent that she doesn’t even notices that it’s not someone of their pack until her eyes spot Cassandra sitting on their sink, swinging her legs and holding what used to be a bottle of jelly. Tim, at Talia’s side, stiffens, watching the intruder with wide eyes and tense shoulders. She knows what it means ― Cassandra’s presence and Tim’s reaction ―, but she doesn’t want to think about it, so she does the only thing that won’t let her stressed: she sighs.

“Tim.” the boy immediately looks at her. “Can you call Bruce for me?”

He stares at her for only a moment before looking at Cassandra.

“But she –”

“Is not a threat.” Talia assures him, trying to smile and failing miserably. “Just go and call Bruce, ok?”

To his credit, Tim doesn’t insist ― he only nods and runs. Talia breathes deeply, trying to control the hurricane inside her mind. Cassandra’s from the League; she hasn’t always been, but it doesn’t matter now. If she’s here, it means that she’s been sent. But for what? Talia’s father doesn’t talk to her since she made twenty-two. It’s been _four years._ Why now? Instinctively, Talia’s hand reaches her almost unoticeable belly, touching it in a protective way. He couldn’t know. She didn’t tell anyone, hell, not even Bruce knows yet. There’s no reason for her father to know ― or to do something about it.

The change in her breath makes Cassandra look at her. From all the kids in the League, she’s probably the only one who doesn’t talk properly ― because she wasn’t taught how to. Sure, Cassandra can risk a word or two, but… That’s it. Her brain developed in a different way from the other kids at her age ― she doesn’t comunicate with words, but body langague says everything. Cassandra _reads people._ And Talia hates the fact that a ten-year-old girl can see how frightened she feels right now, because al Ghuls aren’t supposed to be _afraid._

“Talia?”

Bruce’s voice is warm, worried, and Cassandra looks at him. Talia feels safe at his side, she feels better. When his blue, concerned eyes find hers, she does her best to hide her desire of holding him closer and asking for them to go away ― to go anywhere far from here. But they can’t. Gotham’s home now. And wolves don’t leave home, unless they need to.

“I think father sent us a warning.”

Her voice is barely above a whisper, and, when Bruce looks at Cassandra, Talia knows: _he doesn’t understand._

**.**

“Cass.” Talia sighs for the millionth time. “We need you to explain what happened. What brings you here?”

The ten-year-old’s very busy testing the flavor of every cookie that Alfred has brought her on the last hour ― a wise act, considering that neither Talia nor Bruce think about the girl breaking the jelly bottle because she was _hungry._ But, since then, they couldn’t manage to get a single word coming from Cassandra. The tension’s starting to finally set off Talia’s nerves, and she’s feeling nauseated. Bruce’s unusually quiet, but concern is written all over his eyes, and something more when he notices the way she’s rubbing her neck, all her posture defensive. He takes a step closer, his hands reaching her shoulders and caressing it carefully.

“What do you think?” Bruce murmurs, his fingers gentle against her body.

“That they’re mocking us.” Talia sighs heavily, but she’s relaxing a little. “The League doesn’t take well the, uh, adoption, unless you needs it really badly. In this case, the child must be… Gifted.”

Her husband’s arched eyebrows tell Talia everything. She looks at Cassandra again, the poor kid taught her to be a wolf more than a human being, and she wants to tell Bruce about her ― she wants to tell him how the League decided that the child of Cain was worth enough to be in their pack, but it’s too much, and, watching the kid biting the homemade cookies like they’re the best thing in her entire life, Talia feels like it’s not in her right to talk about it. It’s not something that she can share without thinking about, not even with Bruce.

“It means that we should keep her?”

The question catches Talia off guard, and she flinches, staring at him with wide eyes. What? _No._ They can’t. They don’t have – Cassandra won’t fit in their pack. Talia _knows_ what the League does to adopted kids; and it means that Cassandra was taught how to be _alone,_ not how to be in a pack, to live with other wolves without the need to fight for everything. Talia doesn’t like the idea of the kid of Cain inside their home, near their kids, not now ― not when she’ll have a kid of her own to take care. It’s not even about Cassandra, it’s about her _meaning._

The League won’t forgive.

The League won’t forget.

“Cass, can you get out for a moment?” probably sensing her stress ― even while they’re not related ―, Cassandra promptly nods, taking as many cookies as her small hands can hold and exiting without any sound. Only when the door closes behing her, Talia lets herself look at Bruce, disbelief and a bit of betrayal in her eyes. “Are you _going out of your mind?_ ” she stands, trying to control the confusion of feelings inside her mind. “We can’t keep a child from the League, beloved.”

“Why not?” Bruce doesn’t seem to get it. “If they sent her, wouldn’t it be disrespectful to refuse?”

Talia wants to cry and, at the same time, slap some sense into him. It’s not how it works, not with her father, and _he should know it._ She rubs a hand against her face, trying to find a way to explain. It’s not about Cassandra, _it’s not._

“Beloved, no.” she shakes her head, daring to hope that, just once, he’ll hear her, he’ll listen to what she has to say about bringing a new child to their home. “If you’re asking me, my answer is no. We shouldn’t keep her.”

Coming from Ra’s, Cassandra could mean anything, but Talia knows better, and she won’t let the League put its hands on her child ― none of them. Bruce doesn’t understand, though, and she should stop keeping her hopes high before he breaks every one of them.

“Talia.” he sighs heavily, apparently tired, and a jolt of pain goes through her body when his eyes look at her, full of disappointment. _It’s not her fault._ It’s not. She’s only trying to protect her ― _their_ ― family. “Please, be reasonable. Cassandra’s just a child. Do you know if she even has somewhere to go?”

She doesn’t even try to hide how hurt she feels anymore. It’s too much ― because Bruce doesn’t even _try_ to understand why she acts like this. Talia’s not cruel to the point of demand him to let the child living alone in a world like this. When her eyes start to water, she rubs her face again, fighting back tears and swallowing the pain. _She won’t cry,_ she doesn’t want to.

“What’s the matter?” Bruce’s eyes are cold ― cold like they were before the incident with Kate. “Why you’re so adamant about letting Cassandra inside my pack?”

And that’s how Talia loses it.

“ _Because I’m pregnant, that’s why!_ ”

Bruce pales, his eyes widening, but Talia refuses to acknowledge guilt in his features, rubbing her tear-stained face. She’s too proud to let anyone see her like this ― even her beloved one ―, and she doesn’t want to stay. That’s the only reason why Talia doesn’t even blink when she looks at him, stubbornly biting her lips to try and stop her sobs.

“And I’m getting out of here tonight."

He seems to shocked to say anything, but, much to her surprise, finds his voice to choke out a question.

“Will you come back?”

It’s not a plead for her to stay, because both of them wouldn’t deal with it in a good way. It’s not him demanding her to stay, neither asking her about the baby; part of her is glad about it, because she would get mad and yell at him and make things worse. Bruce’s letting Talia to choose on her own ― to decide what she’s going to do with her life, and the life of her son. He’s giving her the freedom she asked for so much, just when she wanted him to don’t. And maybe that’s why she knows ― she always knew ― what she needs to do. That’s why she knows that, staying, she’ll only smash her own feelings in a cage, pretending for the rest of her life that everything’s fine when she’s _dying inside._ Maybe that’s why she knows that she’ll need to reach for Nyssa ― for the only person who’ll never hurt her, who’ll never hurt her son, who’ll always accept whatever are the decisions that Talia takes, and will always offer to deal with the consequences, even when they’re too much for both of them.

Talia stares at Bruce ― at his sad eyes and his pressed lips and the guilt glowing in his face like a flashlight ―, and feels her heart cracking again.

“I don’t know.”

And she means it.

**I**

The first time Talia brings a kid to their home is unexpected.

Well, mostly.

**.**

The day when Damian’s born is the happiest day in Talia’s entire life. He’s so, _so tiny,_ with the smallest hands and lips and fee she’s ever seen, and, when she holds him for the first time, she cries. She cries because he’s got her skin, her bony cheeks, her curved lips, but, yet, when he opens his eyes and looks at her, it’s Bruce’s eyes that Talia sees, Bruce’s eyebrows, and she swears, _she swears_ that his hair’s going to be just like his father’s. It’s too early to say whose color’s eyes he’ll get, but Talia couldn’t care less about it ― the delicate teal that glows against hers when she looks at him is more than enough for her.

And then Talia holds him tight, careful, humming in Arabic, rocking him back and forth. Damian’s quiet, his eyes big, and he’s _pouting._ Talia’s too overwhelmed to care about the fact that she’s crying more than her baby. She didn’t even think she’d ever be able to feel something so strong, not after all she’s been through these years. And even days later, his name tastes sweet in her mouth, she wants to hold him and never let him go.

Damian won’t _ever_ know how it’s to feel unloved. Talia’ll make sure of it. He won’t ever need to feel scared about nobody caring about him, she won’t let anyone hurt him, _ever._ She knows that, eventually, she’ll end up spoiling the kid, but she couldn’t care less. He’ll have enough people to worry about it, though ― his brothers, his sisters, his father ―, and the thought makes Talia smile quietly, fondly. It doesn’t matter how mad she was at Bruce before, she won’t forbid him to see his own son ― she’s not that cruel ―, and, anyway, she wants their pack to see the new member, to create a bond between then; for then to know that, yes, Damian’s blood of her blood, flesh of her flesh, but they’ll always be her kids, it doesn’t matter what happens, and she wants them to care about him.

Nyssa, however, doesn’t seem so pleased when Talia tells her that she wants to get back to Gotham. She looks at Talia with arched eyebrows and crossed arms, and instinctly the new mother flinches, tightening her grip in Damian, sensing the tension in the room.

“Are you sure?” Nyssa notices her distress, immediately softening her features, her voice low, her eyes full of sadness. “I’m worried about you, sister.”

“Damian will need his father.” Talia shrugs, playing with the baby, letting him grab her finger just to pok him in the nose, receiving a sound of amusement in response, never taking her eyes off the boy for too long. “And a pack. And I won’t let him grow up alone just because me and his father aren’t well now. He’s just a baby.”

“He doesn’t need to grow up alone.” Nyssa sounds desperate. “He can grow up being an alpha of our League. I’m sure father won’t mind, Talia, please, Damian’s got everything to be one of our best wolves, father’ll be proud to have him. We can even manage to find you a new husband, someone –”

“ _I said no._ ”

Talia needs to control the utter rage that bursts inside her body, letting her with shaky hands, sending distress through Damian’s body, whose eyes start to water. He’s too young, _too young for her to let her feelings overwhelm him like this._ When he cries, she’s fast to hush him, getting back to hum Arabic lullabies, trying to calm down her baby boy. Damian’s cheeks are red and stained with tears, and Talia’s heart breaks at the sight. She whines, fighting her own tears, regretting not knowing what to do to make him feel better.

Nyssa watches, sorrowful, her features twisting in pain.

“I’m sorry.” she says, truthfully. “I – I just wanted you to – Can we talk about it later?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Talia’s answer is cold. “I’m not coming. I’ll – I’ll recover and get back to Gotham.”

She knows that she’s being too harsh, but Talia _really_ doesn’t want to discuss this with Nyssa. She loves Bruce, yes, but this won’t change anything; and even if he’s not the bestest of mates, she knows that he loves kids, she saw it ― she doesn’t want to take from him his right of being a father, of helping a child to grow up. And she wants Damian to know how it is to feel loved, to have a father and a mother and a _family;_ and only the Wayne pack will be enough for Talia. It doesn’t change what Bruce did, it doesn’t change how she feels, or the fact that they’ll need to talk about _everything._ She’s tired of keep herself quiet, trying to be what he wants her to be; she’s tired of not knowing what’s going inside his mind. If she opens up a little, if she says how she feels, maybe Bruce’ll understand that he can do the same, that she won’t judge him.

Talia sighs, her fingers rubbing comforting circles on Damian’s cheeks. It’s not time to think about it. She’ll get better, she’ll get out of here and she’ll take Damian home. And, when she looks at Nyssa again, she knows that her sister accepts it; Nyssa doesn’t _understand,_ but she _respects_ Talia’s decision.

“Thank you.”

Nyssa smiles weakly, ready to get out of the room.

“You don’t need to be. We’re family. It’s my job to look out for you.” and then she turns her back to her sister. “The League will always be with open arms for you and Damian. Remember this.”

“I will.”

Talia’s not kidding.

She knows ― and it scares her.

**.**

Almost four months later, Talia’s in Gotham, Damian with her, and she didn’t talk to Bruce yet. She doesn’t know why, she just doesn’t feel ready. She knows it’s selfish, because she’s been gone for almost a year by now, and although she misses her pack, she’s uncertain about what happened after she ran away. It’s been _ten months,_ everything could’ve changed and she wouldn’t even _know._ She doesn’t want to come back with high hopes and a heir only to find out that she’s been replaced. She wasn’t in her better terms with with Bruce before, and she knows that he wont replace her with Kate, but she doesn’t like to think that she’s special, because _she’s not_ ― Ra’s taught her that. So, she needs to be prepared to anything: new members, a possible new mate of Bruce, her kids not forgiving her, _anything._

That’s why she’s alone. That’s why Nyssa gave her an old apartment of hers, with nothing but enough to survive. That’s why Talia can’t sleep, her mind drowned in thoughts about how to deal with what she’s going to face in, at the most, a week before someone of her pack notices her scent in the city or senses her and Damian ― because then she’d be screwed.

Talia sighs, trying to calm down her feelings or she’ll end up waking Damian, and she doesn’t want it. She quietly gets out of the bed, hoping that her warmth will keep him sleeping for a while, because she needs something to stop the storm inside her mind. Happily for her, Damian barely moves, too deep in his sleep to notice her missing; anyway, Talia doesn’t dare to sigh in relief until she’s out of the room, closing the door behind her. In moments like this, she’s grateful that her baby boy is so quiet, so calm, because the last thing she needs right now is to hear him crying the entire night.

She goes directly to the cooker, her steps light, her eyes fixed on what she’s doing. She’s glad that Nyssa at least likes the same kind of tea that she loves, because then she doesn’t need to pay attention on what she’s doing. Talia’s mother senses are screaming, telling her to get Damian and run, but her instincts are deeper than this, and she knows that her boy’s safe. The intruder in her apartment, however, she’s not so sure about.

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing here?” she asks, her voice monotone, and a little sound comes from the window; barely audible, but she’s alert. “I can hear you.”

Soft steps approach her ― not too much, and she’s glad about it, but nearly enough for her to _feel_ whoever it is. Talia finalizes the tea first, taking a moment or two to prepare herself before turning her face to see the stranger. To her surprise, it’s a boy. A _young_ boy. He’s tall, thin, cheekbones showing and clothes that are far too dirty ― and large ― for him to be using. Talia stares at him, smelling the air. Her wolf is quiet, curious, because there’s something _familiar_ in him, and she doesn’t know exactly why.

“How…?” his voice’s a little rough, weak, and only then she remembers that it’s winter, it’s cold out there, and he’s probably freezing. “How did you…?”

“Want tea?” she interrupts him, offering the kid a cup, but her movement makes him flinch, taking a step back. Talia sighs, mentally slapping herself for the abrupt move. Bruce’s probably soften more than her father would like to know, but, personally, she doesn’t care too much. “It’s snowing, boy. The stairs out there are metal, and they’re almost frozen. Walking in there makes too much sound, it’s like an old machine to my ears.”

His eyes widen, and, not even a moment later, he’s already prepared to back off and run. Talia notices his body language, all of him screaming hunger and cold and _fear,_ even when determination burns inside his eyes. She likes him ― he makes her thing about a lonely wolf: ready to run or fight if he needs to. The thought almost makes her feel fond of the boy, but it dies as instantly as Damian starts to cry. The kid almost jumps in surprise, confusion washing away all the worry from his features. Talia lets the tea on the cupboard, not at all regretting making it.

“You can stay the night if you want to. I’ve made tea, and there’s food inside the fridge.” Talia gives him a nervous and, yet, soft smile.

He walks away when she goes to her room, but she doesn’t hear him running ― and she’s not sure yet if that’s a good or bad sign, deciding to shrugg it off her mind before taking Damian in her arms, fast to hush him with a warm and quiet voice, rubbing his back and letting him know that he’s not alone, that she won’t ever let him.

She doesn’t sleep during most of the night, and, early in the morning, the sweet, delicate sound of Damian’s breath works as a lullaby to her.

More than this, she doesn’t hear a sound.

**.**

It’s almost nine in the morning when Talia finally gets out of the bed, stretching out, trying to get the lazziness out of her bones. She’s feeling pretty well, Damian’s looking at her with those big, pretty teal eyes, full of curiosity and innocence, and she kind of thinks that she’ll be able to get out with him ― the sky’s not bright blue, neither grey and full of clouds, and she can tell that the wind won’t be so cold today. She smiles, without being able to remember how many times she felt so happy in her entire life ― only a few, she’s sure ―, getting him in her arms and pressing a kiss in his forehead.

“Hello there, little D.” he yawns, his tiny lips forming a perfect _O_ , and Talia wants to _squish his cheeks_ so, so bad. “What about we see what our guest’s doing, uh?”

If someone told her, a long time ago, that when married with Bruce she’d be so happy with kids, so happy for _herself_ for having a child, Talia would’ve laughed at their face. But she is. She loves Damian more than she thought it’d be possible, and she wants nothing but protect him from the world. That’s the only reason why he’s tightly secured against her chest, her shoulders slightly tense when she gets out of the room. But it’s a useless effort, Talia finds out only a second later, when her eyes reach the boy quietly sleeping on her carpet, all curled up around himself. She doesn’t smile, but her eyes glow in a bit of amusement.

However, in the moment she steps in the room, he wakes up in a rush, his eyes wide, his moves discoordinated, his breath rasp and loud. Talia doesn’t move anymore, knowing that he’ll feel frightened. He takes a moment or two to understand where he is, his posture defensive, his shoulders too tense. She rubs Damian’s back, watching the stranger frowning before he stares at her.

“ _–‘m sorry._ ” he says, voice slurred and sleepy, although his eyes are quite alert. “ _–’ wasn’t supposed to stay._ ”

Talia recognizes the tiredness in his body, the edge on his tone. The boy’s a street rat, not used to kindness or warmth without needing to do something in return. But Talia’s not expecting anything, and she doesn’t want him to think that she made it for pity ― or whatever’s going on inside his mind now.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t for you to stay.”

He doesn’t seem to believe her, his frown only deepening. But he doesn’t say anything more, scratching his neck in an uncomfortable way, and Talia decides against asking him if he has anywhere to go; it’s stupid, and she doesn’t need to get in his nerves before even knowing who he is.

“What’s your name?” when the boy narrows his eyes at her, she sighs heavily. “I’m not going to call the cops, kid. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He doesn’t trust her ― it’s clear by the way he glances at the window for a brief moment, almost unoticeably ―, and she wasn’t expecting him to.

“Okay, then. You hungry?”

The boy hesitates for only a second before noticing that she’s not trying to make a sick joke, and he’s eager to nod, practically jumping to his feet, his breath out of rhythm.

Talia and the kid eat in silence, which’s comfortable enough for her to give more attention to Damian, whose eyes watch every movement of the stranger with curiosity, although he’s trying to chew on his mother’s fingers at the same time she smiles slightly, rubbing his cheeks. She doesn’t remember the last time she missed her pack so much, while eyeing the child appreciating the bread like it’s the best food in the world ― he makes her think about Terry, tall and serious, but there’s something bright in his features, something like Dick, and when his eyes spot Damian, they’re so, so sweet and so soft, and the first child in her mind’s Tim. Her heart aches.

“ _–’ name’s Jason._ ” he says, suddenly, looking up through the hair falling in his eyes, and, then, he scratches his neck again. “Jason Todd.”

 _Jason._ She tastes the name inside her mouth, watching him for a while. It suits him well, she thinks. And it makes her think of Bruce and their pack ― and she finally, _finally_ understands the reason why her husband brought so many kids to their family. It’s not about what she thinks, it’s about what they _needed._ It’s about what nobody wanted to do for them, about the care they needed so much, about just giving them a hand when nobody seemed to care enough ― the life they could’ve if someone so much as _acknowledged_ their existence. It’s not so simple, Talia _knows;_ if it was, she would’ve understood it early. It envolves too much, and, now, she wants to understand it entirely.

Talia gives the boy a small smile, seeing the tension vanish from his shoulders.

“Hello, Jason. My name’s Talia al Ghul, and this is my son, Damian.”

Todd stares at Damian in awe. She can practically see the way the pieces complete the puzzle inside his head.

“You have a pack?”

His voice is high-pitched, excitement pouring down his body. Even Damian can feel it, moving avidly, his tiny hands reaching Talia’s hair and grabbing it. She’s careful to watch Jason’s reaction, not knowing what’s so exciting about having a pack for him to be so eager.

“Yes.” she poks Damian’s fingers until he frees her hair, and the baby pouts, not happy to lose it. Talia fights the urge to smile, although her eyes turn into something softer, warmer. “Don’t you?”

Jason shrugs, and the way he looks away tells her not to push the subject.

“Nope.”

Talia will talk to Bruce. They’ll talk, and understand each other ― she’s not expecting him to love her, but she wants to hear him saying what’s going through his mind. She wants him to know that she wants him to trust her, that he can do it without fearing that one day she’ll use it against him. Talia’s not supposed to betray him, she loves the guy. And then, when he finally understand it, they’ll talk about Damian. And their kids. And Jason.

“Would you like to have one?”

His wide eyes ― and the hope fighting its way against his distrust ― are all she needs to know the answer.

Three days, many talks and a calling later, the three of them are coming back home.

**.**

_I never ever meant to hurt you (I only did what I had to)_

_Counting stars again..._

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FINISHED, HELLO THERE, YOU FIGHTER CINNAMON ROLL TOO BEAUTIFUL TOO PURE FOR THIS WORLD  
>  ~~I'm thankful you did it <3 ~~  
> .  
> There's something I thought while writing about "the sixth child"/Kate, and I feel the need to talk about it, even if it means that I'll tell spoilers about Bruce's one. So, here we go.
> 
> While being wolves, Bruce and Talia may get in fights (not only now, but in the future too), and they won't always be so, uh, simple. I've got nothing pretty bad planned (actually, I don't plan on making something like this again), because they're pack, and, being the alpha's mate, Talia doesn't need to fight for a better position. Besides, it's not just about what they think, but instincts too. If Talia feels hurt, betrayed or threatened, her wolf won't react in a good way and Talia won't think twice before letting it all go, because that's what she was taught to (and what she wants to) do; and the same is valid on the other way round, Bruce won't keep quiet if he believes she's going to hurt his (their) pack.
> 
> YET, in their human form, Bruce won't EVER raise a hand to her. Like, EVER. He won't ever hurt her, even in his wolf form, if he has a choice (like when he choose to run after Nyssa instead of fighting Talia), not only because he doesn't want to, but because he RESPECTS her as a woman, as a wolf and as a human-being. Bruce KNOWS that he's not the better husband, that he's not all lovey-dovey and he's not even near what Talia "dreamed of"; even if he was, he wouldn't ever DREAM about hurting her. He knows that Talia's not fragile, that she can fight back, and he knows even better that she has the will to win if she really wants to, but he WON'T DO IT. And it's mutual. He knows that, even if Talia someday decides that she wants to run away, that she wants another life, if they fight, she won't try to kill him; not only because she loves him, but because she RESPECTS him as a man, as a wolf, as a human-being.
> 
> I can't promise that they'll feel the same way (about the "no killing" thing) about everyone, but the respect thing will be valid for everybody in the family. [kind of. Like, Talia respects Kate, but it doesn't mean that she _likes_ her or anything along these lines, it doesn't mean that she would _think_ before attacking her if they needed to fight, or if Kate does something that she considers as a threat to her pack and/or her mate]
> 
> I think I've made myself clear about it.  
> .  
> Yes, there'll be more ones from now on ~~(and yes there'll be a fic about Bruce's point of view)~~ , although I think I won't be able to write them like I wrote this lol (I've started it last Friday, 26/03)  
> Some things will only make sense later, so... Any question? Comment? Criticism? I'll gladly hear it! :33  
> Any question/request/desire to talk about anything, you can contact me here, [ tumblr](http://firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin.tumblr.com/), [ twitter](https://twitter.com/notmadetobeheld) or [ curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notmadetobeheld) :D


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